


Christmas Lights

by momentsintimex



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, but it's mostly just murphy family, connor and zoe are trying, family content, heidi and evan are in this for a split second, mainly this is just a murphy family christmas in the hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentsintimex/pseuds/momentsintimex
Summary: As far as Christmas dinners go, this is the most untraditional one Zoe can remember having, well, ever.Zoe is fully aware that her mom is doing her best to keep traditions alive. She wants to make this feel as normal as possible, but something tells Zoe the standard hospital gown and scrubs and the IV taped to the back of his hand is making Connor feel like this is anything but a normal Christmas.--Connor spends Christmas in the hospital after a suicide attempt, and the Murphy's have anything but a typical holiday.





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> "Oh Christmas lights light up the street  
> Light up the fireworks in me  
> May all your troubles soon be gone  
> Those Christmas lights keep shining on"
> 
> Title (and lyrics above) from Christmas Lights by Coldplay.
> 
> TW: mentions of suicide, accounts of suicide attempt

Zoe slams her hand against the volume button in her car, doing anything to make the Christmas music stop. She’s not in the mood to hear the songs about falling in love over the holidays, or how it’s the best time of the year when everyone's happy. She’s not in the mood to hear about kissing under the mistletoe and all the presents lined underneath the tree, or how Santa is going to bring all the good children toys and they’re going to get everything they wished for.

This is going to be Zoe’s worst Christmas, and that’s saying something when she looks back on the last few years of her life.

Connor hadn't been doing well. Zoe knew that.

She had noticed the way his medication didn’t seem to be working, that the array of drugs they had put him on had suddenly made him suicidal again, as if that feeling had ever gone away. Zoe wonders if in the back of her mind she saw this coming. She knew that Connor was getting worse, but always figured that someone else was on top of it, that someone was getting him the help and they were going to change out his medication and get him back on track.

She should’ve known better.

She can remember the day as if it had happened minutes before. It was a brisk afternoon, the sun setting as the sky turned a burnt orange color. Her cheeks are tinged pink and there are tears forming in her eyes from the wind, but she feels alive. She doesn’t mind walking with Evan when it’s like this, and she knows he feels the same way.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, but her hands are too cold to bother to answer it. It’s not worth the frostbite, she figures, and instead she’ll just get back to whoever it is on the other line later when she’s managed to warm up. It rings again and a third time before she even moves to answer it, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Zoe, I don’t know where you are right now, but I’m literally about to kill myself. I’ve already taken a few pills and I have all the other pills right here. I have Dad’s knife he left unlocked in the garage, and I’m going to do it this time. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and you’ve been the best sister to me these last few months, but I can’t keep living like this. Mom and Dad went to the Harris’ down the street, and I said I’d be fine, but I’m not. This is my chance, Zo.” Connor’s voice shakes and slurs with each word, Zoe stopping as she looks to Evan, mumbling some sort of message about calling 911. She’s not even sure what she said to him made sense.

“Connor, I need you to sit down with nothing in your hands and breathe,” She begins, and the rest from there is a blur. She swears she can hear the sirens going directly to her house, and after Evan’s managed to tell 911 what’s going on he calls his mom, who comes and picks them up from wherever they had walked to to get them back to the Murphy’s. Heidi was the one who had called Cynthia, who raced home at the same time with her husband, frantic and panicking over their son.

She remembers the ambulances and EMTs parked out front of her house, the neighbors standing on their front porches watching the commotion. She remembers standing on the grass of her front lawn with Evan holding her, her body shaking as Connor is brought out on the stretcher. He’s conscious, she knows that, but she also sees the oxygen on his face, the IV in his arm and the restraints and the blood on his arms, and she sobs.

Broken sobs, right into the crook of Evan’s neck. He’s shaking now as well but holds her tighter, rubbing her back as if that was suddenly going to make everything better. He doesn’t have words to say though, because deep down he knows this isn’t going to make anything better. There’s nothing he could say that would pull Zoe from this nightmare.

Zoe feels frozen in place long after the ambulance has left and her father is talking with police. She knows she should get in and get warm, she should let Evan and Heidi go home where they’ll be warm, but she doesn’t think she can move.

In the end it takes Heidi’s gentle hand resting on her back, rubbing softly. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” She says, taking her hand as they move slowly across the front lawn up into the front door.

Zoe’s house feels cold. Not literally, because opening the front door pushes warm heat in her face. But she knows a lot just happened in the place she had felt safest, she can see furniture moved and things thrown about in a haste to save her brother’s life. There’s a flower pot broken in the front entryway, and without a word Zoe cleans it up with Heidi and Evan’s help.

It sends chills down her spines.

It seems like hours before they find out any information, Connor being put on psychiatric hold after emergency treatment to pump his stomach and stop the bleeding on his wrists. The doctors aren’t sure that he’s completely safe from that, either, and there’s still a chance that the self-harming went too deep this time, that he’s harmed himself more than just the agonizing cuts he had given himself before.

It’s two days before Zoe’s allowed to see him, walking through the hospital with her head down and tears in her eyes. She didn’t _want_ to be back here visiting her brother. She wanted Connor to be better, to be home with them celebrating the lead-up to the holiday season, getting excited about Winter break and Christmas right around the corner.

Instead it’s growing increasingly more obvious that Connor won’t even be home for Christmas, and she thinks that might be what hurts the most in all of this. That their Christmas is going to be spent in the hospital because her brother can’t stop trying to kill himself.

She hates him for it.

After her initial visit to the hospital, her heart breaking at her brother, so defeated and gone from his life as he lays in that hospital bed, it takes her three more days before she even thinks about visiting the hospital again. Her mother urges her every night to just visit him for a few minutes, that Connor would want that and he’d be happy to see her.

She always denies it, yelling at her saying that Connor hates her, and that if he really wanted to get better he would try harder.

She knows that isn’t true.

She knows that Connor _is_ trying, and this attempt isn’t his fault. He had called her _three times_ , which she knew meant he didn’t really want to die no matter how many times he said he did.

When she visits for the second time Connor is sleeping, and she leaves before he wakes up. She doesn’t think she’s ready for to be face to face with him.

On Christmas Eve, Zoe knows she has no choice but to go to the hospital. Her parents had been there all day, talking with doctors and therapists about where to go next, how to change things and make Connor start getting better again. The sun is shining, cars are lining the streets for last minute gifts and party decorations, but Zoe just wants to be home.

The traffic is absurd, the Christmas music that she once loved is irritating her, and so instead she opts to sit in a quiet car, alone with her thoughts.

It’s all of 5 minutes before she’s turning on some angsty punk rock, acting like it’s not supposed to be the happiest day of the year for so many people the next day.

It takes Zoe a good 10 minutes to find a spot at the hospital, parking in the far corner of the parking garage. She figures the long walk will be good for her. It gives her time to think about what she’s going to say when she’s undoubtedly faced with her brother, who’s bound to wake up in the time she’s going to have to stay since it’s Christmas Eve.

The woman at the front desk looks familiar, but she doesn’t say anything to Zoe except a gesture to have a nice visit, which Zoe thinks is ironic considering her brother is on psychiatric hold and recovering from a suicide attempt. She’s not planning on the visit being nice for her, or really anyone else involved.

Connor’s room is at the end of a long hallway, decorated for the holidays with obnoxious tinsel and colored lights lining the windows into each room. Zoe thinks this may be nice on any other floor, but considering what these people are going through, it’s a bit much. She doubts they want much holiday cheer.

She doesn’t think Connor does.

Connor’s room is small compared to some hospital rooms he’s been in, but there’s a large window that overlooks a courtyard, which seems nice. Connor’s able to get out of bed, and she’s not surprised to find him sat in the oversized chair in the corner Cynthia’s begun to call home now that Connor can have someone spend the night with him.

“Hi, Zoe,” Cynthia smiles, walking over to leave a kiss on Zoe’s forehead. She seems too cheery, like she knows something Zoe doesn’t and she can’t wait to tell her. Zoe has confusion written all over her face when Cynthia pulls away from her, but Cynthia doesn’t say anything and Zoe doesn’t ask, so their conversation virtually ends there.

She peers past her mother to where Connor is sat, noticing his eyes are open. There’s an IV stuck in the back of his hand and three hospital bracelets lining his wrist, but the most noticeable thing is the giant white cast on his hand and wrist. She remembers vaguely her dad telling her that Connor ended up breaking his hand from punching his bookshelf multiple times, but she can’t remember why Connor did it — or if he even gave a reason.  
She doubts he did.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Cynthia whispers, Zoe just nodding. She’s not convinced that he will be, but she doesn’t think the hospital is the place to argue about it. At least not on Christmas Eve.

So she takes slow steps towards her brother’s side, smiling softly when he looks up at her. “Hey,” She says, and for a moment she swears she sees him smile.

The Connor looking back at her isn’t the Connor she’s grown to know over the last few months. His features are sunken in again, his skin is pale and his hair is greasy, which she thinks has more to do with the fact that he’s been in the hospital for the last few days and most likely hasn’t showered.

“You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to keep staring at me like I’m some sort of freak.” There’s a bite to his words, one that Zoe honestly expected when she prepared herself to come see him. She notices her parents frown, but they don’t say anything to her and so she doesn’t press them to make him apologize.

She just takes a seat on the sofa next to him, folding her hands together in her lap awkwardly after she shrugs off her jacket.

“Will you two be okay if we go down to the cafeteria and pick us all up some lunch?” Larry asks, looking between both kids.

Zoe immediately wishes she had protested that at least one of them stay, but before she has a chance to Connor has already shrugged, and Cynthia and Larry have gone in search of some food for the four of them to have that somehow resembled a traditional Christmas Eve dinner.

The silence in the room is deafening, and Zoe thinks she could probably cut the tension with a knife. Connor turns up the TV a little louder, but it doesn’t help. There’s still so much left unsaid, so much left between them that she feels that they need to solve, but she doesn’t know where to begin.

“How’s being here?” She finally asks, her cheeks immediately flushing when she realizes the words that came out of her mouth. If looks could kill Connor’s definitely would have killed her, and she immediately looks anywhere but straight ahead.

“Zoe,” He says sharply, his head falling back against the chair. “It fucking sucks,” He laughs this time, but it’s not the Connor laugh that she knows. It’s one that’s bitter and sad all at the same time, and she doesn’t know how to take that. She doesn’t know how to understand how he feels.

“Broke my hand this time. And sliced my wrists again to add onto the fucking cast I now have to wear,” He sighs, and Zoe cringes. She remembers back to his last attempt, when she had first seen the angry purple scars staring back at her and wondering how it could get any worse.

Somehow she thinks they’re living in a worse time now.

“Do they know why you started getting worse again?” She doesn’t really know how to go about this, how to talk to her brother about how he was feeling without going too far and setting him off. The brother she once knew is long gone, and in many ways she feels like all the progress they made together is out the window as well.

Connor sighs, his fingers picking at his hospital bracelets out of habit. “No, not really,” He admits, and Zoe hears the sadness in his voice. “Dr. James was up here yesterday, and he thinks it might’ve been a chemical imbalance between my body and my meds. He said it just happens sometimes, that sometimes the meds that you think are working so well just…stop doing their job.”

Zoe nods, but she doesn’t really understand. She doesn’t understand how doctors can mess up this bad, that they don’t notice medications just not working. She feels like that’s their job, and yet somehow Connor was let down.

It wasn’t fair. Connor wasn’t a nice person, but he doesn’t deserve this.

“He said he’s going to start me on some new medications as soon as these doctors give me the all clear, which should be today or tomorrow. Then it’s about finding a balance and making sure that this doesn’t happen again. I don’t know, Mom’s been handling all that. I’ve kind of just accepted I’m going to be a test dummy for these meds until they think I’m normal again.”

Zoe frowns, looking back at her older brother. She remembers the times she idolized him, the times when he’d help her through all her drama that really didn’t matter at 8 years old.

Now it’s her chance to help him.

She’s silent for a moment, picking at her nails in an effort to organize her thoughts and not come off as offensive.

“Did they say when you’d be home?” She asks after a few minutes of wrestling with if that was even appropriate to ask.

She’s just grateful Connor doesn’t seem phased by the question.

He shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “Once I start on the meds I’m going to be here at least 72 more hours to make sure I have no adverse reactions or anything. If I do, then we start over with a new medication. So I could be home at the end of this week, or like, in a few weeks,” He sighs.

Zoe feels horrible for him, but there’s nothing that she’s going to say to make him better. She knows he doesn’t want to be alive, but now he’s alive and stuck in the hospital, and that may be his worst nightmare.

She wonders if the first few nights when Cynthia couldn’t stay with him were the most peaceful nights. She knows he’ll never say.

“Did you want me to bring you anything from home? I mean, I’ll be here tomorrow, so if there’s anything you want I can bring it up then,” Zoe offers. She has a Christmas gift for him stashed away in her room, waiting to be wrapped. She figures maybe by bringing something from home he’ll cheer up.

She wonders if he can even have anything.

Connor thinks it over for a moment, looking over at Zoe. “Maybe just my pillow and the book on my nightstand?” He asks, Zoe nodding. “Actually, I can’t remember if the book is on my nightstand? I think I threw everything in my room, so it may be on the floor, or like, under my bed or something.”

Zoe smiles, biting her lip and tucking her feet up next to her. She doesn't know what Connor’s room looks like, because every time she walks past she refuses to look in. It’s almost like she’s afraid that she’s going to find his blood splattered on the hardwood floors, or the things he used to hurt himself laying on his bed.

She knows her dad cleaned it all up the first night after this had all happened. The same night she cried herself to sleep after punching her pillow a million times, sobbing about how she wishes she just had a brother who was _normal_.

She doesn’t mean it. She knows she doesn’t.

“I’ll find it. What’s it called?” She asks, looking back up at him. She can’t stop staring at his features, can’t stop wondering how long he’s looked this sick and she hadn’t noticed.

“ _The Little Prince_ ,” He says quietly, and Zoe feels like she’s seen the book a million times before. She doesn’t think she’ll have trouble finding it.

There's another pause, another moment where she thinks about filling it with endless conversation. But she knows Connor doesn’t want that, he probably doesn’t even want her there, honestly, and that’s what keeps her quiet. She leans back, her eyes focusing on the movie Connor had on TV that she doesn’t think he’s even paid attention to.

“‘m sorry you have to spend Christmas visiting your fucked up brother in the hospital,” He mumbles, his eyes not moving from the TV.

“You’re not fucked up,” Zoe says sharply, but she doesn’t even believe herself. “Connor, if spending Christmas in the hospital means you’re alive and getting the help you need, then it’s worth it,” She corrects herself, which makes her feel a lot better.

Connor only shrugs. Zoe wonders if he’s even listening.

Before they can go any further Cynthia and Larry walk back in with a makeshift dinner for the four of them, setting it out on the table as Connor sits up a little when Cynthia places a sandwich in front of him. “Try to eat as much as you can, please? We saw your doctor in the hallway and he said he may start the medications tonight, so we need to have something in your stomach.”

Cynthia’s voice had always been soothing. Zoe can remember those nights when she and Connor would curl up on either side of her at bedtime, stories being read through the quiet air of the bedroom, silly voices done for each character. Her voice was so soft and comforting, lulling both Connor and Zoe to sleep when they felt like it wasn’t possible to do so.

Her voice is the same with Connor now, but it’s a wildly different scenario. Now they’re in her son’s hospital room after his most recent suicide attempt, struggling with finding a medication that will work and keeping Connor’s mental health and wellbeing safe while they manage everything that’s going on with his body. It’s the same soothing voice, but one that means so many different things than it once had.

Sometimes she wonders if Connor could remember the same memories she could. Those memories of bedtime stories, the memories of the two of them hanging out in the backyard, making up silly adventures. She knows he spent most of his teenage years high, and she’s always worried that he had done harder drugs.

She doesn’t ever want to forget the good moments with Connor. There had been plenty of them, even though she won’t admit that to everyone. There are moments where she can remember laughing until her sides hurt with him. There are memories of making forts with him, having sleepover on snow days, or making up games that most definitely ended up getting them in trouble or someone getting hurt.

But as many good times as there were, there were bad times. Nights where Connor would chase her up the steps, threatening to kill her because of something she said that set him off. Nights where she would be afraid to step out of her room because she could hear Connor throwing things in his own room, or the fights with their parents about him sneaking out and getting high.

Now she’s spending Christmas Eve in his hospital room after a suicide attempt, and it’s the first time she’s genuinely felt lost on what to do to help him.

Usually she just didn’t care.

Visiting hours end at 8, and for as much as Zoe didn’t want to come, now she finds herself not wanting to leave. She takes her time pulling her jacket on, watching from the corner of the room as Larry helps Connor move back to bed before they leave. He’s slow on his feet, taking calculated steps and holding onto the IV pole. Zoe wonders just how weak he is from everything that happened.

She waits until he’s settled before she walks over to his bedside, Cynthia fussing with his pillows that is most definitely annoying Connor.

Zoe’s hand rests against his casted hand, her thumb brushing against his fingers. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make sure I bring your things,” She says quietly, Connor blinking blearily as he nods. He doesn’t have the words to say anything to her, but Zoe understands.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Connor,” She whispers, not surprised when she doesn’t receive anything in reply.

She says a quick goodbye to her mother, letting her hug her a little too tight and little too long before she pulls back and smiles. “We’ll see you guys in the morning,” She says, which makes Zoe wonder just where she’s finding the energy to act happy.

She doesn’t question it, following her dad out of the hospital room and back to the elevator, promising him that she’s coming straight home now that they have to drive separately to get there. He nods, kissing her head before they walk in their separate directions when they’re back out in the frigid air.

Zoe and Larry skip midnight mass that night, which Zoe is grateful for. She doesn’t think she can take the sympathetic smiles and words of encouragement from virtual strangers who they see once a week on Sundays, most of who ignore them when they’re in church on a normal day. She knows they all know, and she just wishes they’d leave her alone.

Despite not going to mass and having time to get to bed early Zoe finds herself laying awake until the early hours of the morning, wondering if there’s ever going to be a time where she understands her feelings when it comes to Connor.

—

For a moment, Zoe wakes up and is excited that it's Christmas morning. The sunlight is streaming through her window, the snow covers the branches on the tree in the backyard, and it seems like the perfect day to be celebrating with friends and family.

She gives herself a moment to adjust to being awake, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. She thinks she can hear some commotion in the kitchen, and that’s when she remembers.

Connor is still in the hospital.

They’re not having a normal Christmas morning with presents and breakfast and the parade on the TV that everyone only half pays attention to, at least not at home. They’re going to the hospital, where Connor is probably going to be sad and not want to open his gifts.

She wonders if she can fake sick and stay home.

“Morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas,” Larry smiles when Zoe finally emerges from bed and into the kitchen, watching her move around and make her own tea and find something for breakfast.

“Merry Christmas,” She mumbles in reply, turning around with a warm mug in her hand, her toast in the toaster.

“When you’re done eating why don’t you go get ready? Visiting hours start at 10, and we’re probably going to spend all day there,” Larry says, serving as a sharp reminder of their day and how abnormal it all is.

Quietly she eats her toast, dragging herself back upstairs to get ready. She wonders what’s appropriate to wear to the hospital on Christmas. But then she thinks about how Connor is wearing a hospital gown and scrubs, and her mother isn’t going to be dressed much nicer, and so she doesn’t care.

She settles on a sweater and leggings.

Larry loads a few Christmas gifts into the car, and although Connor’s bedroom had been a place she was previously avoiding, she knows she needs to get the things he’s asked for.

Taking a deep breath, Zoe walks into the room that’s really only been cleaned at the bare minimum. She can see the faint stains on the hardwood, where she assumes his blood had fallen. There’s a few more stains on his comforter, and Zoe pushes the sick feeling back down and searches for the book after she grabs his pillow.

Nestled on the ground beneath a pile of things Connor had obviously thrown that night is an old, worn out book, the edges tattered and pages stained. Zoe bends over and picks it up, sighing when she sees it’s the one she’s looking for.

She wonders how many times he’s read through this, studying each page as if he needed to memorize them all. She knows it’s an old book, but it’s far from looking new and she thinks about getting him a new copy, one that’s less tattered and tearing with each page turn.

She runs to the car before she can really think about everything this book has gotten him through.

—

The hospital is the last place anyone wants to be for Christmas, but the nurses put in the effort of making things feel a little more cheery, a little more like the holidays would be if the patients were home.

Connor’s room has a small tabletop Christmas tree by the window, which Zoe figures her mom bought at the gift shop or one of the nurses brought in. It doesn’t feel Christmassy by any means, but it’s something.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Cynthia smiles when they walk in, Larry setting the two bags in his hands down to walk over and kiss his wife. He squeezes Connor’s shoulder, which seems so impersonal and cold, but Zoe knows he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he needs to do for his son, who he thought was getting better.

None of them know what to do.

“I brought you the things you asked for,” Zoe says quietly, walking over to the bed with the book and his pillow. Connor half smiles, thanking her softly and sitting up so she can slide the pillow behind him.

She sets the book on the bed beside him, sitting on the edge and taking in his features again, as if they would’ve changed drastically overnight. He looks a little more rested maybe, but other than that he still looks pale and sick, and Zoe wonders how long it’s going to take before that changes.

She sighs out of habit.

They open a few gifts each, and Cynthia promises that there’s more at home that they’ll open when they’re not in the hospital. Zoe doesn’t care about the rest of the gifts, she doesn’t care that this isn’t everything they got, or they had only opened small gifts that probably would’ve been in their stockings.

She just wants her brother to come home. She wants him to magically be okay, and for him to be home and be happy and act like this had never happened.

She knows it’s not realistic.

Connor’s doctors call Cynthia and Larry in for a meeting to talk about his progress, leaving just Zoe and Connor together once more. She feels better this time, like it’s not as scary to be around her brother when she knows how he is.

She hates that it took her days to come back here. To come visit him when he needs her.

“I know we said we weren’t going to give gifts to each other, but I got you something,” Zoe says, walking over to where she left her bag to grab out a smaller gift bag.

Connor’s silent, but Zoe’s learned that doesn’t mean he’s ungrateful. He just doesn’t have anything to say.

“It’s not much, but I thought maybe you needed something to occupy your time while you’re stuck here,” She shrugs, tentatively handing him a bag.

Connor carefully takes the bag, fumbling with the tissue paper before pulling out a blank art notebook, pens and pencils falling out after.

“Zoe…” His voice trails off, his fingers carefully thumbing through the blank pages of the book, ready for him to doodle on. “I um, I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know,” She nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You can call me cliche or whatever, but you just being alive is enough,” She shrugs, not missing Connor roll his eyes.

He’s smiling, however, which makes Zoe smile in return.

“I just thought that you liked to draw, and you really can’t do anything else here. And when you come home I don’t think that’s going to change, so I thought maybe a new drawing book would be good?” She says, fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater. “I don’t know if I got the right pencils or pens, I asked the guy who works there if they were good but if they’re wrong I’ll take them back and go get you the right ones, or when you’re released I’ll take you to the art store and you can get whatever you want.”

“Zoe,” Connor interjects, a smile playing at his lips as he stops her from rambling. “These are fine, honestly. Thank you.”

Zoe nods, the room falling silent between the two of them.

“I’m actually surprised that you got me anything, or that you gave me it. I mean, you must hate me by now.”

Zoe’s smile falters, and for a moment she thinks about agreeing. She _does_ hate him, hates what he’s put her through, how it doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to get better. She knows it’s his meds, but for Zoe, it’s hard to separate the two of them. It’s hard for her to remember that Connor’s moods depend a lot on if his medications are working.

“I don’t hate you,” She finally says, which sounds about as convincing as their mother when she says she’ll talk to their dad about giving Connor more of his freedom back.  
In hindsight, Zoe’s glad her mom never did.

“You’ve been through a lot,” She concedes, her eyes falling to her lap. “And you’ve dragged me through all to of it, made me your punching bag most of the time. I _do_ hate you for doing that. I hate that you thought that taking things out on me, or threatening me was how you needed to cope with all the…all the pain that you had inside of you.” She can see Connor nod out of the corner of her eye, but she can’t look at him.

“I know that you couldn’t control that, and I know that I’ll never understand how you felt in those days, or even how you feel now. Sure, there have been moments where I wish that you were just…you were better. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you for trying to get better. Because I do, and I’m happy that you’re working _so_ hard. And I know we’re going to find a medicine that works, and you’re going to slowly start working back to the place you were a few months ago.”

Connor nods, sniffling. Zoe didn’t mean to make him cry, but she has to admit that she feels better now that she got things off of her chest. “I hate that I keep letting you guys down.”

“You’re not letting us down,” She responds quickly, but Zoe doesn’t even believe herself. Because yeah, she did expect better. From herself, her parents, from Connor. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand that his medicine began to fail him, it wasn't him just giving up. “You’re trying, and you’re here, right? You’re not fighting the meds, you’re letting the doctors figure out how to get you better. I would say that’s exactly what Mom and Dad want, even if you don’t believe that yourself.”

Connor nods, but before he can say anything else Cynthia and Larry are back, looking far too cheery considering that they’re spending Christmas in a hospital.

“The doctors are happy with how well last night went,” Cynthia says, the smile on her face suddenly turning into a look of concern. “Are you okay, Connor?”

Connor nods quickly, rubbing at his eyes with his only good hand. Zoe stays quiet.

“They say that as long as you’re stable these next two days, we’ll be home in time for New Years with a new plan and no more staying here. The doctors don’t think that a lengthy hospital stay or a rehab is the right choice for you. They really just think this was a medication issue, not your brain getting worse.”

Connor nods. He doesn’t feel like talking.

Zoe slides off the bed, walking over to sit on the sofa by the window once more. Her parents fuss over Connor as if he’s 5 years old in bed with the flu, which she knows he hates. She just doesn’t have the energy to tell them to back off.

She looks out the window at the courtyard, snow piled up along the sidewalks, falling off the branches of the trees under the warm Winter sun.

She can’t help but wonder what their Christmas would’ve been like if Connor would’ve just been home.

—

Lunch comes around, which Connor sleeps through. No one seems concerned about it, which makes Zoe feel slightly better that this may just be normal for him.

She feels suffocated in the hospital room, and wonders how Connor feels now that it’s been five days for him being there. She knows he hasn’t been outside, and briefly wonders if walking in the courtyard would be allowed.

She figures it’s probably a no.

“Don’t you ever get bored just staying in this room all day?” Zoe blurts out, not realizing that her thoughts had now been put out into the open. Connor’s head snaps over to look at her, shrugging.

“We can walk the halls if you want. I don’t really go that often on my own, but they make me a few times a day,” Connor shrugs. He can’t help but notice his parents watching their conversation from the corner of his eye.

Zoe figures her parents would think it’s nice if they walked the halls and so she stands up, watching her dad help Connor out of bed and onto his feet.

“We’re not going far,” Connor mumbles once they’re in the hallway, Zoe nodding as she crosses her arms over her chest. She suddenly feels wildly awkward doing this with him, as if he’s a stranger she’s just met. “This is the worst part, you know. All the nurses look at me like it’s some fucking miracle I’m up and out of bed, and the doctors always make little remarks about how nice it is to see I’m getting better.”

His hand grips his IV pole tighter out of habit, his cast swinging awkwardly at his side.  
Zoe doesn’t think she understands what he means, not until they’re a little ways down the hallway and she notices exactly what he’s talking about. The smiles, the small comments. She’s actually surprised to see that Connor tries to smile back at them. She takes it as a sign the new medicine is helping.

She knows medicine doesn’t work that fast.

They only walk for a few minutes, staying almost silent except for a few idle comments about the amount of people, and Connor complaining about the Christmas decorations and how they don’t make anybody in this ward feel any better. She can’t blame him, she had the same thoughts when she saw them too.

Cynthia looks so _happy_ to see them come back, and Zoe knows it's overbearing. She feels like it's overbearing to her, and she's not the one who tried to kill herself more than a few times. Connor mostly ignores it now, falling back into bed without anyone helping him except for Larry when he fixes his IV lines so they don’t tangle. Zoe goes back to her corner, curling up on the edge of the sofa and pulling her book out of her bag.

She thinks about texting Evan, but then decides against it. _It’s Christmas_ , she tells herself, she needs to just be with her family.

—

As far as Christmas dinners go, this is the most untraditional one Zoe can remember having, well, ever.

Connor’s granted a night of dinner that isn’t hospital food, and promptly requests McDonald’s. Zoe finds it ironic considering Cynthia had practically banned them from McDonald’s after watching a documentary on the fast food industry, but she’s just so _happy_ Connor has an appetite for anything that she sends Larry out almost immediately for food for the four of them.

And so they crowd around the table in Connor’s hospital room eating fast food that doesn’t taste nearly as satisfying as Zoe was hoping it would, but it feels okay. Like maybe things would start getting better, and Connor would come home and be back on track to getting better again, just like he was a few months ago.

Maybe that would be her Christmas miracle.

“I know it’s not the same as being home,” Cynthia begins, taking a moment to swallow the bite of salad she has in her mouth, “But Dad brought _Christmas Vacation_ up to the hospital on his way home, and I thought maybe we could watch it as a family? Before visiting hours are over. Just like we watch it every other Christmas.”

Zoe is fully aware that her mom is doing her best to keep traditions alive. She wants to make this feel as normal as possible, but something tells Zoe the standard hospital gown and scrubs and the IV taped to the back of his hand is making Connor feel like this is anything but a normal Christmas.

“Okay,” Connor says quietly, everyone's eyes shifting to Zoe, who immediately nods in agreement.

She swears she sees both Cynthia and Larry smile at that.

They finish up their dinner, Connor eating most of his food before he’s moving back to bed with Cynthia watching, and Larry is working on figuring out how to make the DVD player attached to the TV in his son’s hospital room work. Zoe’s resigned to laying on the sofa in the corner of the room, not even noticing Connor’s eyes on her.

“You can lay in the bed with me if you want, Zoe,” He says so quietly that she almost doesn’t hear him.

She pretends like her heart doesn’t skip a beat hearing that.  
She nods, not wanting to upset Connor or hurt his feelings any more than she already has today. Tentatively she reaches the end of the bed, Connor moving over so there’s more space for her to lay.

“I’m not going to hurt you or anything, right?” She asks, Connor’s eyes narrowing at her before his face softens.

“You can’t. The only thing that hurts is my hand, and you’re not going to lay on it,” He reminds her, which really sounds obvious now that she hears it out loud.

She climbs up without anymore questions and carefully lays down next to him, not wanting to crowd his space or overwhelm him. She doesn’t have a chance to ask if she’s okay where she is before the movie is starting, and their parents take a seat in the chairs flanking the sides of the bed.

For a few hours, Zoe forgets that they’re celebrating Christmas in the hospital. Connor’s breathing is even and steady beside her, his hand resting just near hers on the bed that they’re now sharing, despite the slight awkwardness. There’s no fire burning in the corner of the room, no Christmas tree serving as the lighting for the evening. They’re not full from turkey or slightly exhausted from time with extended family, but Zoe doesn’t mind.

She thought this Christmas was going to be the worst one she’s ever had. She thought she’d hate that her brother had to go and try to kill himself so close to Christmas, even though she knew it wasn’t his fault his brain made him think like that. She thought that Connor would draw himself away from them, refusing to do anything that even slightly resembled their Christmases at home. But he doesn’t. He lets them force their silly traditions on him, he lets them make this feel even slightly normal.

Zoe’s head falls against Connor’s shoulder halfway through the movie, her hand resting lightly against his cast. “I’m glad you’re alive,” She whispers, so low that she doesn’t think Connor hears her.

He turns his hand over, squeezing her hand as best as he can around the plaster of his cast. “Me too,” He whispers, his head resting on top of hers.

"Merry Christmas, Connor.”

“Merry Christmas, Zoe.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea where this came from or how i even came up with writing this, but it got out of hand and well, here we are.
> 
> honestly i just really wanted to write a Murphy family Christmas, but didn't really think we'd end up here. hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> you can talk to me/follow me on tumblr if you'd like! for-f0rever.tumblr.com :)


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